Loving It
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: Collins just basically talking about Angel and how he feels about her. extreme fluff fic, with much mushiness. hell yes. short and just rather random...but oh well. just normal me stuff!


**this is pretty damn short, and it is just a little Collins POV piece bout Angel. I can't get enough of stuff like this. anyhoodle, there should be some Collins/Angel fluff up soon, along with a possible Mimi thingy and other crap. i durno.**

All my life, I made fun of those poets who wrote love poems about girls (Or guys. Check out Byron). I scoffed whenever I saw some pimply guy walking out a flower shop with roses. I rolled my eyes at passages in book that talked about love being true or passionate or even real. I never cared about love, at least not romantically. "Who needs it?" was my motto. After all, I had my friends, my philosophy, and my everyday life. What more could a guy ask for?

It just goes to show how stupid people can be. I spent my entire life saying that I wouldn't fall in love, I didn't want to fall in love, and could we please drop the subject and order some pizza or something? And then all it takes is a kind word, a Band-Aid, and the warmth of a smile to undo everything I ever believed about love.

I, Thomas B. Collins, do hereby admit defeat. And I do it cheerfully. Happily. Ecstatically. If there was anything in the world that I would have wanted to be wrong about, it was that. I got hit with the whole True Love Deluxe package, with small shipping and handling fees (The bruises are fading. I know it's weird but I really do owe those assholes for beating me into a pulp. Without them…I'd have never met her, and I feel nauseous whenever I think about that).

I can hardly believe it. The things that I dismissed as being childish and bad writing are regular symptoms for me nowadays. Whenever I see Angel, my heart leaps into my throat and I get this crackling feeling in my spine (kind of like that time I messed around with my dad's car battery and oh, never mind). At even the slightest contact between us, I feel suddenly warm and relaxed…it's a great feeling.

And that's only what comes from bumping wrists with her or something. Kissing her…now _that's_ incredible. I can't begin to describe it…it's like being high, except so much more. So much more that it's actually nothing like being high. Huh. Bad comparison. But she really is the best damn kisser I've ever kissed. And although I had sworn off love before her, that didn't mean I wasn't experienced with kissing.

Angel's laugh makes me feeling like bursting into giggles (Giggles. Me, giggling. Do you need any more proof of how amazing she is?). Her voice, whether she's singing or talking or whispering, is the best music I've ever heard. I can't get enough of it. How she looks…I've always liked art, but she makes Picasso paintings look grey. She's beautiful. Stunning. Sexier than any human being has a right to be. She looks hot in miniskirts _and_ sweatpants. I'm thinking of applying the term "miracle" to that particular occurrence.

I've never seen anyone with more generosity or kindness inside. She'll sacrifice anything to make someone else smile. I try not to take advantage of this…but sometimes, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. Speaking of guys…Angel might be a drag queen, but she's tough. Scarily so. The heavyweight champion of the world would be reduced to a quivering heap of jelly if she decided to stare him down. And should that not work, there's something about Angel that only Mimi and I know.

She's a judo expert. I mean a black belt, master, whatever the hell it's called, that's what she is. I doubted that once and only once. Literally one second after I challenged her claim, I found myself lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling and making a silent oath that I would _never_ get on Angel's nerves again. Of course, I haven't exactly fulfilled that oath. But Angel's never flipped me (Yes, that's what she did. It hurt like hell, let me tell you) since that day. She wouldn't do that to anyone unless it was self defense.

I think.

Anyway, off the subject. The point is that I don't know what I'd do without her. I don't know what I would do if I didn't wake up to see that once again, she's sort of tangled her body up while she's sleeping and her head is poking out from between her two crossed knees. I don't know what I would do if I couldn't hear that laugh echoing up from Mimi's apartment as the two of them paint their nails. I don't know what I would do if I couldn't witness those acts of kindness that she does every day. And I don't know what I would do without those nights when we—

Hold up. That right there, that's my business. Our business. Moving along! (nosy little readers…)

I think about what it means when I say that we're in love. Is it physical? Mental? Grammatical? I just can't get it. I think it's deeper than either of us can grasp. All I know is that I'm overjoyed to see her no matter what mood I'm in, and I would do anything in this world for her. That should be enough to describe our love. It barely scratches the surface…but it's enough.

When you've got Angel, you've got everything.

**i love them SO much.**


End file.
